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Authors: J.D. Lowrance
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body . . . her pussy
rubbing against me and my bike as she rode bitch. Fucking focus. All
Campbell had to do was be close to me and my mind, my body craved her. I needed
some space to get my head on straight if I was going to send her on her way.
The wrath, the pain I saw in her eyes,
the vulnerability I felt at seeing her beaten and tied to that pole; I needed
it all to remind me of what I needed to do. Because if I forgot, even for a
second, and started to enjoy the way she felt pressed up against me, riding
bitch on my bike, wearing my clothes so everyone knew she was MINE, I would
never let her leave.
I had already accomplished two of the
three things I laid out for myself when I walked out of that tent. First she
needed pants, done. Then we needed to get gone, done. Once we were back at the
clubhouse, where I knew she would be out of harm ’ s
way, I could create that space that I so desperately needed in order to show
her she needed to move on from this teenage crush she had on me. Because that ’ s
all this could be, right? Just a stupid crush. Yeah-the-fuck-right.
Lockdown at the clubhouse was
inevitable with all the shit that went down between us and the Hellhounds
tonight. We would be at war by morning and I, like the obedient brother I was,
was ready for battle.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Campbell
God
my ass hurts. I knew other thoughts should be racing
through my mind after everything that had happened, but we had been on this
bike for-fucking-ever. I tried giving Tank every hint imaginable to get him to
stop. I squeezed him with my arms, my thighs. I even resorted to banging my
forehead against his back and yet here we were miles later still cruising like
this bitch seat was comfortable. Are you kidding me?
Desperate
times called for desperate measures. So I did what any self-respecting lady
would do who had to pee like a race horse; I pinched him HARD when I saw signs
for the next exit.
“ Jesus
Sunshine, ” I
heard Tank yell as he pried my nails from his waistline, but I got what I
wanted as he started to pull onto the exit ramp. Thank God.
The
bike was barely to a stop as I hopped off yanking up Tank ’ s
pants that I was wearing as I tore off into the gas station looking for a
bathroom.
Sweet
relief. No woman should ever have to hold their bladder that
long as she rode the back of a bike that seemed to hit every bump in the road.
Once I was finished, I made my way over to the sink to wash up. Dear Lord
Baby Jesus! Half of my face resembled a bruised state-puffed marshmallow
man . . . woman.
“ Oh
my god, ” I exclaimed as I started to
pull down the collar of Tank ’ s t-shirt to reveal bite
marks and hickeys from where Crazy Z went to town on my neck. The hickeys were
so red and irritated they looked like track marks all over the side of my neck. “ What
was he, a fucking leech? ” I asked my reflection as I examined the rest
of me. My wrists were even worse, bruised and puffy like the side of my face,
but turning a beautiful shade of purple. The reality of what happened was
starting to sink it.
Holy shit! Can someone please explain to me the shit storm that just got dumped all over
my weekend? I mean seriously! What kind of fucked up shit was that? I go
from having a pity party about Tank leaving me for brother shit, in my pjs as I
ate Phish Food ice cream, to standing in the filthiest place that ever
resembled a bathroom bruised and battered wearing Tank ’ s
ten-sizes-too-big-for-me-clothes running away like the hounds of hell were
literally chasing us. Maybe they are! Damn Hellhounds.
The more I replayed everything, the
more pissed off I became. Maybe I should be shitting my pants, or be scared,
but I was just fucking pissed. My resolve grew as I stared at my reflection. No
more! “ No
more, ” I yelled at my reflection.
Crazy Z better stay away from Logan and me or I was going to show him just how
un-vanilla I could be. No more baby girl; it was now just straight up I ’
rubbing against me and my bike as she rode bitch. Fucking focus. All
Campbell had to do was be close to me and my mind, my body craved her. I needed
some space to get my head on straight if I was going to send her on her way.
The wrath, the pain I saw in her eyes,
the vulnerability I felt at seeing her beaten and tied to that pole; I needed
it all to remind me of what I needed to do. Because if I forgot, even for a
second, and started to enjoy the way she felt pressed up against me, riding
bitch on my bike, wearing my clothes so everyone knew she was MINE, I would
never let her leave.
I had already accomplished two of the
three things I laid out for myself when I walked out of that tent. First she
needed pants, done. Then we needed to get gone, done. Once we were back at the
clubhouse, where I knew she would be out of harm ’ s
way, I could create that space that I so desperately needed in order to show
her she needed to move on from this teenage crush she had on me. Because that ’ s
all this could be, right? Just a stupid crush. Yeah-the-fuck-right.
Lockdown at the clubhouse was
inevitable with all the shit that went down between us and the Hellhounds
tonight. We would be at war by morning and I, like the obedient brother I was,
was ready for battle.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Campbell
God
my ass hurts. I knew other thoughts should be racing
through my mind after everything that had happened, but we had been on this
bike for-fucking-ever. I tried giving Tank every hint imaginable to get him to
stop. I squeezed him with my arms, my thighs. I even resorted to banging my
forehead against his back and yet here we were miles later still cruising like
this bitch seat was comfortable. Are you kidding me?
Desperate
times called for desperate measures. So I did what any self-respecting lady
would do who had to pee like a race horse; I pinched him HARD when I saw signs
for the next exit.
“ Jesus
Sunshine, ” I
heard Tank yell as he pried my nails from his waistline, but I got what I
wanted as he started to pull onto the exit ramp. Thank God.
The
bike was barely to a stop as I hopped off yanking up Tank ’ s
pants that I was wearing as I tore off into the gas station looking for a
bathroom.
Sweet
relief. No woman should ever have to hold their bladder that
long as she rode the back of a bike that seemed to hit every bump in the road.
Once I was finished, I made my way over to the sink to wash up. Dear Lord
Baby Jesus! Half of my face resembled a bruised state-puffed marshmallow
man . . . woman.
“ Oh
my god, ” I exclaimed as I started to
pull down the collar of Tank ’ s t-shirt to reveal bite
marks and hickeys from where Crazy Z went to town on my neck. The hickeys were
so red and irritated they looked like track marks all over the side of my neck. “ What
was he, a fucking leech? ” I asked my reflection as I examined the rest
of me. My wrists were even worse, bruised and puffy like the side of my face,
but turning a beautiful shade of purple. The reality of what happened was
starting to sink it.
Holy shit! Can someone please explain to me the shit storm that just got dumped all over
my weekend? I mean seriously! What kind of fucked up shit was that? I go
from having a pity party about Tank leaving me for brother shit, in my pjs as I
ate Phish Food ice cream, to standing in the filthiest place that ever
resembled a bathroom bruised and battered wearing Tank ’ s
ten-sizes-too-big-for-me-clothes running away like the hounds of hell were
literally chasing us. Maybe they are! Damn Hellhounds.
The more I replayed everything, the
more pissed off I became. Maybe I should be shitting my pants, or be scared,
but I was just fucking pissed. My resolve grew as I stared at my reflection. No
more! “ No
more, ” I yelled at my reflection.
Crazy Z better stay away from Logan and me or I was going to show him just how
un-vanilla I could be. No more baby girl; it was now just straight up I ’
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